


Bridge the Line

by Tabithian



Series: Ordinary Ways [7]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs. Tunstall is the bane of every single student at Jason's school and a good portion of the faculty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bridge the Line

**Author's Note:**

> themandylion asked for a fic in the [Ordinary Ways](http://archiveofourown.org/series/314417) AU with this prompt:
> 
> [“it seems we’re the only two people in this class that actually know what the fuck is going on want to team up for this project and ruin everybody’s lives” au](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/128441831304/here-have-some-aus-as-if-there-arent-enough-on)
> 
>  
> 
> (I kind of cheated a little, though. /o\\)
> 
> Takes place between [Streets of Blue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4844081/chapters/11096252) and [The Stars are Sure to Shine](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4861301).

Mrs. Tunstall is the bane of every single student at Jason's school and a good portion of the faculty.

She's a fixture at the school, every bit part of it as the foundations it's built on. The high walls surrounding the grounds that are meant to offer up a sense of safety, but in reality just need a touch of barbed wire for that inescapable prison look that's just all the rage these days.

The thing about Tunstall is that she's old, not quite to retirement age, and Jason's pretty sure she started hating her job a few years in but was too stubborn to quite and find something she did like. So she does this thing where she looks for things to be angry about, or maybe just ways to make everyone a little more miserable than they were before she stepped in.

“She got to you too, didn't she.”

Jason looks up as Tim drops down into the seat across from him.

“Mrs. Tunstall's been cracking down on you troublemakers.” 

And then Tim _smiles_ , the one that should fool absolutely no one and yet Jason watches people fall prey to it time and again.

The fact that Dick's only realizing now what a little shit Tim actually is is the idiot's own damn fault for falling for that look in the first place. Bruce is a paranoid bastard at the best of times, but even he was taken by surprise. Alfred...okay, no. Alfred's been on to Tim since the beginning.

“Okay, look,” Jason says, jabbing a finger at Tim. “You being a little shit right now isn't helping.”

Tim raises an eyebrow at him.

“...Shut up.”

Tim snorts a laugh and glances around the library – like anyone's paying attention to them in their little corner of it - before leaning forward on his elbows.

“So?”

Jason traces a note someone carved into the table with the edge of his thumbnail, feeling not a little stupid – whiny.

“Tunstall's been going after the kids with free periods this time.”

And, okay.

Fair, because a lot of the kids with those use the time to goof off or come up with new and terrifying ways to make their enemies and other victims suffer. (Jason needs to drag Bruce down here sometime, Dick, too, because they don't believe Jason when he tells them the next generation of Gotham's rogues are all going to be from this little spot of heaven.)

Jason, though. He liked using it to get a jump on whatever homework he had, or catching a quick nap after a long night.

It's not the world's greatest injustice. Not something he could go to Bruce about and expect him to be able to fix – although, God, what Jason wouldn't give to see Bruce going up against Tunstall.

“She's been keeping track. Had a little presentation for Hainey on all the absences excused or otherwise and attendance issues with us,” Jason says.

He tries to keep how tired he is of this bullshit out of his voice, but Tim notices. 

He always does.

Tim's looking at him, this unhappy curl to his mouth as his eyes go to Jason's leg, stretched out to the side because the damn thing's still healing. 

“I guess she has something against pony polo, who knew, right?”

It's not a perk, really, but Jason completely understands why Bruce and Dick love to give people the most ridiculous explanations for injuries they can't hide. 

And. 

It's not a contest, either, but the three of them are definitely trying their damn best to outdo one another every time a situation like this one crops up.

Tim rolls his eyes, this _look_ on his face he gets whenever Jason spouts this kind of bullshit.

Looks at Jason who looks right back at him, waiting to see what he's going to say next because Tim always seems to have something going on in that head of his.

Jason's not disappointed when Tim's mouth flattens out and he sits up.

“Take media studies.” 

Jason's eyes narrow.

“With me,” Tim continues, eyes sliding away from Jason's. “It's. You'd like it?”

Right.

“Isn't that the class you bitch to me about almost every day?” Jason asks.

Tim winces, and now the little shit is leaning away from him. This thing he does sometimes Jason can't fucking figure out, and he's still avoiding Jason's eyes, so...

Jason clears his throat before launching into this fucking godawful falsetto impersonation of Tim, something he knows annoys the punk to no end.

“'Jason, none of them know what they're doing,' 'Jason I hate everything,''Oh my God, Jason, half of these people grew up in front of a camera, how can they not know how one works?'”

Tim's face is this fascinating spectrum of red shading to a nice soft rose – partly embarrassment, mostly frustrated anger - if Jason had to guess, but hey, at least he's looking at Jason again.

Glaring, really, but Jason will take what he can get. 

“You're kind of a snoot,” Jason says, but he's grinning. “And you're giving them the benefit of the doubt. I can pretty much guarantee you the only reason any of them gives a damn about a camera is to make sure it's getting their good side.”

Unfair, maybe. But a lot of the kids in Tim's media studies class come from families that signed up for one reality show or another the citizens of Gotham and the world eat up. (Before Jason had gotten to know Tim, his...family situation...he'd almost asked why the Drakes weren't lumped in there too.)

Jason will never admit this under threat of pain? But he regrets Bruce declining multiple offers to have their own reality show.

Because really, that would have been so goddamned _fantastic_. 

Jason knows without a doubt that Dick would have gone along with manufacturing some pretty amazing family drama for the purpose of fucking with people. Alfred, if he was in the right mood, might even go along it, because _Bruce_. All of them making Bruce regret all of his life choices over and over again for the whole world to see.

Fuck, he wonders if there's a chance they could have a cameo or something on one of those shows - 

“Jason?”

Jason blinks, and there's Tim and that stupid amused smile of his.

“You kind of went away there for a minute, you all right?”

Jason sighs, because Tim looks all fond and amused and under it all this sweet kind of worried. For Jason, even though this stupid schedule change really isn't the worst thing in the world.

Annoying as all hell, yeah. 

But.

Not completely terrible, really.

“Media studies, huh?”

Tim shrugs, smirk taking shape.

“You and your family have ended up on television and all over social media enough you might as well take a class on it.”

********

Jason's not allowed to spar with Dick or Bruce or generally do anything to aggravate his injuries while his leg's healing. Not like Jason would (unless there was a damn good reason for it), but. 

It's routine, habit, going down to the Batcave to spar or tinker with some new gadget they may or may not add to their regular inventory.

And since Jason's not allowed on the mats and isn't feeling very mad scientist – mad engineer? - at the moment, he's just kind letting his mind drift. Not really thinking about anything in particular, the sounds of Dick going through his usual workout routine a comforting background noise. 

(Totally normal, all of them. Nothing weird at all about them. Really.)

“Not that I'm not flattered,” Dick says, “but that's a little creepy. Even for us, I mean.”

Jason blinks, and sees Dick looking up at him from the training area that – apparently – Jason's been staring for the last however long without realizing. There's a light sheen of sweat on his face that's flushed from exertion, and a giant grin on his face because he's an ass.

Speaking of - 

“I was just trying to get the math right,” Jason says, leaning back in the computer chair, watching Dick as he scoops up a towel set off to the side along with a water bottle.

“For?”

Jason shrugs, turning the chair so he's facing Dick as he makes his way over to Jason.

“Well, according to most of the cape and cowl community you have the perfect ass,” Jason says, and honestly, he never meant for things to go this direction, but it's not like he can just stop now.

Dick, who was about to take a drink from his water bottle slowly lowers it.

“I mean,” Jason continues, hating his brain a little more with every word that passes his lips. “I guess I can see what they mean? But – no pun intended – I don't think they've seen it lately.”

Dick's eyes narrow.

Jason raises his hands a fair distance apart and makes a squeezing gesture. “It's getting bigger, so I was trying to calculate - “

Dick flings his sweat-drenched – ew, _gross_ \- towel at Jason's face and goes for a choke hold, knuckles digging into the top of Jason's head.

“Take that back, you little punk,” Dick says, tries to growl, but there's too much laughter in his voice.

********

“Okay, look,” Jason starts, sitting next to Tim. They're in the courtyard that faces the library, clean lines and carefully trimmed trees and flowers. Benches placed here and there. “You need to sell me on your media studies class.”

Jason's spent a good ten minutes trying to find Tim, hunting for him in all the usual spots he likes to go for lunch period and this was the last spot, so of course that's where Jason finds him.

It's a quiet spot, set back in a corner with a giant oak overlooking it. The bench was built around it, curving away from the tree to give it room to grow. Tim's somehow managed to wedge himself in there so his back's up against the tree's trunk, feet braced just so for balance.

Tim makes a garbled noise and lifts his head, blinking sleep from his eyes. He kind of looks like shit, really. Like the idiot's been dealing with the insomnia he claims he has. (Not that Jason doesn't believe him, but there's something about the way Tim says it that has Jason wondering.)

“Jason?”

Jason smiles, flicks hair out of Tim's eyes as he looks at Jason, tiny hamster in his head still trying to figure out how the hell the damn wheel works, from the look on Tim's face.

“I seriously don't get how you can fall asleep anywhere, you dork.”

“Shut up, it's a valuable skill,” Tim mutters, batting at Jason's hand as he pulls it back. “Also, what?”

Jason watches Tim dragging himself back to the world of the awake and semi-functional and tries not to think about the way his heart does this _thing_ , because _no_. 

Bad idea. 

Like. 

Really bad.

Tim's the first - real – normal(ish, because Tim's a special kind of weird all of his own) friend he's made since Jason became Robin. (Became Blue Jay.)

And.

 _No._

“You want me to join your class? The one where I get to learn how to be a paparazzo?”

The look on Tim's face is so damned priceless, and so is the way he drops his face into his hands and bemoans the future of Gotham if Jason's going to be part of it.

“Oh my God, no,” Tim says, voice muffled by his hands. “That's. Jason, _no_.”

Jason grins, settling in for the long haul as Tim goes into detail just how amazingly wrong Jason is when it comes to his misconceptions about the class. Like. Astoundingly wrong, oh my God, Jason.

********

Bruce is staring at him.

“Hey,” Jason says, offers up a little wave because why not, really. 

Jason is working on his homework and for some reason Bruce and Dick decided now was a perfect time to be in the manor's library, do some light reading.

Jason might even think that was true, if it weren't for the way Bruce is staring at him and Dick is doing a horrible job of pretending to read the book in his hands. 

“Media studies.”

Jason frowns. “...Yes?”

More staring, and Dick biting his lip to keep from laughing because he lives up to his name and then some.

“It was that or shop,” Jason says, all the other kids who had to pick a new class having snatched up the ones he might have been interested in. “I really don't think you want me working with power tools around all the other tools who go to my school.”

And, sure. 

Jason had tracked Tim down to get a better idea of what the damn class was all about? But they both knew Jason was going to take it the moment Tim suggested it. 

Dick loses his battle against laughter and slides out of the armchair he's sitting in, gasping for air and basically being his usual mess of a self. Bruce gives them both highly disapproving looks even though Jason can see the smile in his eyes.

“Is there a particular reason for your decision?”

And, oh, oh, Bruce is such an asshole.

“Yeah, Jason, is there?” Dick asks, singsong, chin on his hands and this utterly infuriating smirk on his face. 

Like he's _five_.

Jason looks at them, two of the most feared and respected vigilantes/superheroes on Earth, and wonders how the hell no one's figured out they're really two of the world's biggest dorks.

“Training,” Jason says. “You never know when I might need to infiltrate the paparazzi one day.”

********

“You didn't tell me about this,” Jason hisses, fingers tangled in the sleeve of Tim's sweater. “I was not reliably informed!”

Jason's a week into this class and he already has a new understanding and respect for Tim's control, because the kids in this class - 

Horrible, entitled little monsters who obviously enrolled in the class hoping for an easy grade. Probably thought it was going to be one of those classes you show up to and do nothing but watch videos all day and get a nice little 'A' on your report card for it.

Only, this is one of those AP classes of Tim's, isn't it. 

It's hard work and essays and actual papers and projects for the first half of the year that lead up to a major project they have the rest of the year to work on. 

Which, coincidentally, is when Jason came into the class, thanks to special concessions made due to the unusual circumstances and the fact that Jason has ties to this Bruce Wayne character. (Guy sounds like a complete jackass though, from what Jason's heard.)

Tim gives Jason this, this _pitying_ look as he unhooks Jason's fingers from his clothes.

“It was in the syllabus I showed you? Bold print, large font? Arrows pointing to it so you couldn't miss it?”

Jason looks at Tim, the little shit who's smirking at him, like this is just so incredibly amusing.

“It's worth half our grade,” Jason points out.

Jason's not afraid of a little hard work when it comes to school. Hell, he enjoys it. But there's the fact that he missed the first half of this class, all the work leading up to this stupid project that would have been nice to have under his belt, because.

_Half of their grade._

Tim raises an eyebrow. “We get to work in pairs for this if we want to, Jason.”

Wait.

Jason _looks_ at Tim, who at least has to the grace to look guilty, even it's by a technicality. (As in, anyone who didn't know Tim better would totally buy the guilty act, but Jason does know the little shit better, so there's that.)

“This is why you wanted me to enroll in this class, isn't it.”

Tim bites his lip, eyes moving to where the other kids are having their own little freak-outs.

“You know who teaches shop, right?” Tim asks, when he finally looks back at Jason.

Jason makes a face because, yes, of course he does. Tunstall started out at this school teaching woodworking and shop, and has since gotten a foothold in every aspect of the school. Her heart, or what's left of it, belongs to power tools and blocks of wood. (And the suffering of students everywhere.) 

“So, what,” Jason says, “you were trying to save me from her?”

It's kind of hilarious, kind of heartwarming, really.

Because Tim will do things like this all the damn time. Look out for Jason in little ways, trying to keep him from having to deal with unnecessary bullshit like this if he can. Jason's still trying to figure out why, though, when Jason was a dick to him when they first met. 

Tim rolls his eyes, punches Jason in the arm when the teacher isn't looking.

“Shut up, you jerk.”

Interestingly enough, though, he doesn't deny it.

Which.

Yeah, okay. 

When Jason had realized he had two options – Tunstall and power tools or Tim and the idiots he has to deal with – the choice hadn't exactly been difficult.

“Seriously, though,” Tim says. “You know this stuff better than any of them, and we'd be working together on it, so.”

There's a look on his face that Jason recognizes. The kind that says Tim's planning on completely crushing their classmates with Jason to help as payback for all the frustration they've caused him this year.

Jason sighs, slouching down in his seat. Tim twitches, hand making this aborted movement before he clamps down on it.

“They didn't read the syllabus either, did they?”

Tim follows Jason's gaze to where half the class is clustered around the poor teacher's desk, flailing arms and shrill voices. Threats to bring their parents into this because that's always a good idea.

“Not really,” Tim says, careful. Eyes sliding towards Jason. “Are you going to transfer over to shop?”

Another sigh, stupidly fond of Tim and the way he's just so dumb sometimes.

“I'd like to keep all of my fingers for the time being, I'm pretty sure that won't be a problem with this class?”

Tim snorts, waves a hand to where a cluster of kids are glaring at the teacher, waiting for their turn to air their grievances.

“Steer clear of them then, and you should be fine.”

Should. 

_Should._

Jason looks at Tim, the serious look on his face and wonders – not for the first time – what the hell he got himself into letting Bruce send him to this damn school.

**Author's Note:**

> *hands*


End file.
